1:15:42

"Babe, what are you doing?"

Emmett was sitting at the kitchen table in the loft where Drew found him.

"Just checking a few things."

"Checking? Checking what?" Drew asked as he sat down beside his partner.

"I want everything to be perfect for Molly."

"I know you do, Emmett, and Molly knows that you will make everything perfect." Drew took Emmett's hand and rubbed his finger along the back of it.

"It will only be perfect if I remember everything. I can't allow anything to go wrong, so I'm going over my lists," Emmett explained.

"You've done hundreds of these events. They all turn out great. What are you worried about?"

Emmett sighed. "This is different. This is for friends. And Molly won't have her Dad there to walk her down the aisle. So I want everything else to be absolutely right."

"You can't make up for Craig Taylor being an asshole, Emmett, no matter how perfect everything is."

"I can try."

"Babe, come back to bed. You're going to make yourself sick, and that won't help Molly."

"I need to…"

"No, you don't. Come to bed, now."

Emmett sighed. He knew Drew was right. He needed his sleep or he wouldn't be in his best form for the wedding. "Make love to me, Drew. Maybe then I'll be able to sleep."

"You got it. Come on." Drew took Emmett's hand in his and led his partner back to bed.

1:24:02

Craig Taylor jerked in his sleep. He had finally dowsed off. And there was Brian Kinney with that smug look on his face staring back at him.

Craig sat up with a start and opened his eyes. He was in his condo on the couch, his wife locked in the bedroom. His whole family hated him. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been awake. How the fuck was he supposed to get through this interminable night?

The TV was still on, some fucking infomercial. He quickly changed the channel trying to at least find some sports or an old movie he could watch. He knew he couldn't sleep.

1:37:43

Craig kept flipping channels, finding nothing to watch, nothing to stop the myriad of thoughts running through his mind, nor the sinking feeling that in less than twenty-four short hours, Craig Taylor would lose everything he held dear.

As he pressed the buttons on the remote, a story on Pittsburgh's local channel caught his attention. The newscaster was the society editor. Apparently Molly's wedding had made the society pages. Soon Craig Taylor's family would be linked to the Kingsleys of Pittsburgh and of Philadelphia. The reporter went on, giving a brief history of the Kingsley family and how they dated back to the founding fathers. There were several photos of Sarah Kingsley, her daughter Sharon Brenner and Owen Sr. The reporter then went on to give a brief synopsis of Owen Jr., including his college days at Dartmouth and when he joined his father's firm.

Craig cringed. Owen Jr. sounded exactly like the son he had hoped Justin would have turned out to be.

The editor continued his report, stating Owen Jr. would marry Molly Taylor, daughter of Craig Taylor and his former wife Jennifer AND sister to Justin Taylor, Pittsburgh's hottest and most sought after artist. The Sidney Bloom Gallery was filmed, along with several of Justin's paintings, past and present. The reporter then gave a brief biography on Justin, including the bashing.

Craig watched intently as amateur footage taken by some kids at Justin's prom, showed Justin bloodied, unconscious and being loaded onto the ambulance. A blood spattered and anguished Brian Kinney was caught on camera. The video cut to pictures of the hospital. The reporter smugly announced the never seen before footage of one of Pittsburgh's prominent citizens, Brian Kinney of Kinnetik, sitting in the waiting room, tears and blood staining his face. The video then cut to Brian and Justin's commitment ceremony, the Rage movie opening and the fundraising gala where Brian stood proudly next to Justin, as Justin gave an interview. More footage of the paintings Justin did for the auction and his 'Old Masters' was run next.

Craig half listened while the editor droned on about Justin Taylor, the artist. Craig couldn't take his eyes off of Brian. The unmistakable signs of a man hopelessly in love were written all over Brian's face, and there was something more that Craig couldn't place. Every so often throughout the interview, Justin's eyes would seek out Brian's. It wasn't hero worship as Craig had always suspected on Justin's part, nor Justin seeking reassurance. The interview had ended but before the camera cut, it caught a candid moment between his son and Brian. Justin smiled brightly at Brian as he waggled a finger in front of Brian's nose. Brian rolled his eyes then laughed. Cut to a commercial.

It hit Craig like a ton of bricks, and Craig began to giggle uncontrollably. Justin had Brian wrapped around his finger. The finger that was pointing at Brian was a warning telling Brian to behave himself. That mischievous little warning that passes between lovers, between partners, spouses, husbands and wives.

"Fucking hell! They are married, more married than half the couples I know." At almost two, the morning of the day of his daughter's wedding, Craig Taylor finally got it.

"Gampa, you love Daddy?"

"Yes."

"You love me?"

"Yes, sweetheart, with all my heart."

"Then you hafta love my Dada."

"I'll try, Briana, I'll try."

Craig's laughter abruptly ended as he recalled Bree's conversation. He picked Bree's card up off the table and re-read the passage inside.

Then Brian's words echoed in his head:

"I don't give a shit about you, you stupid twat. I do care about Justin, Molly and Jennifer. Bree's still young enough, she won't miss you like Molly and Justin do. Jennifer cares that you're going to miss the most important day of Molly's life."

"Are you man enough to be father of the bride?"

"Brian Kinney giving advice on how to be the father of the bride," Craig grumbled out loud. "I'll show him." Craig turned off the TV then flung the remote onto a nearby chair. He snuggled down into the sofa, wrapping the afghan around him. "I'll show Brian fucking Kinney." Craig closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.